


As Long As You're Mine

by happyeverafter72



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Forced Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyeverafter72/pseuds/happyeverafter72
Summary: John Watson is being forced into marriage by his mother. He and Sherlock spend a last night together before the wedding. Sherlock knows that he must do something to avoid losing the love of his life, but what?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by listening to 'As Long As You're Mine' from the musical Wicked.

John Watson’s mother had always held very traditional beliefs. Although he had been happily settled in a relationship for  a number of years, he had not told her. The reason for this was simple: his beloved was a man. His mother would certainly not understand his love for Sherlock Holmes. On the contrary, she had decided that the time had come for him to settle down with a nice girl and give her some grandchildren.

“How long has it been since you left the army, Johnathan?” she asked in what he could tell was a forced breezy tone.

“5 years, Mother,” he replied warily. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but odds were against it being anywhere good.

“And still you haven’t settled down,” she continued.

“But I  _ am _ settled,” he protested. “I’m published, I’m building up my practice, and I’m living with my best friend.”

“That is not what I mean, Johnathan,” she said testily. “I mean that you have not got married. As you seem to be incapable of selecting a suitable partner, I have found a nice girl for you.”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mother, you cannot force me to marry.”

“Of course not, dear,” she said, going back to the falsely light tone. “But I  _ can  _ cut you off if you do not. Are you settled enough to not require support from us?”

He could see in her face that she knew she had got him. Being cut off entirely from the family, with no financial support, would cause real problems for him. “Who is she, then?” he asked resignedly.

She gave a pinched smile which didn’t go anywhere near her eyes. “Mary  Morstan ,” she said. “She’s a nice young lady, about your age. I’ll introduce you next week, then we can start planning.”

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John felt very deflated as he walked up Baker Street. All he wanted was to cuddle with Sherlock and forget the whole thing. He knew, though, that he would have to confess what had happened. Sherlock would hate him. He’d been such a coward. Why could he never stand up to his mother?

Shaking himself, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Quickly removing his shoes, he headed up to the sitting room. Sherlock was lounging in his armchair with a cigarette and the paper. He turned when John entered, taking in his lover’s expression and body language.

“How bad was she?”  he asked.

“Bad,” John replied with a huff. “Could we just … cuddle for a bit?”

“Of course, my darling,” Sherlock said, putting down the paper and discarding the cigarette into the fireplace. “Come here.”

John sat on Sherlock’s lap, and Sherlock held him close, pressing soft kisses to his temple. John buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, breathing in his darling’s rich scent. They stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying the closeness.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, my love?” Sherlock murmured, rubbing small circles on John’s back.

“You won’t like me if I do,” John mumbled.

“Whatever do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

John sighed and raised his head. “My mother is forcing me to marry. She’s using my financial situation to blackmail me.” He kept his eyes cast down, not wanting to see Sherlock’s face as he spoke.

“And you couldn’t tell her about our relationship because she would ruin me too,” Sherlock said quietly. “I understand.” He tightened his arms around John. “I assume she has chosen a lady for you.”

John finally raised his eyes with an amazed laugh. “Thank God,” he breathed. “Yes, she has. Mary  Morstan , apparently. She’s going to introduce us next week.”

Sherlock pressed another kiss to John’s forehead. “I suppose we shall just have to make the most of the time we have left.”

John nodded. “I shan’t stop loving you.”

“Nor I you,” Sherlock affirmed with a slight smile.

They shared a soft kiss, sealing the promise.

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The following week, John’s mother did indeed introduce him to Mary  Morstan . She was quite pretty, with long blonde hair and soft blue eyes, but she wasn’t showy. She was a primary school teacher, she told him, working in Kensington. After the introductions were made, his mother left for a while to let them get better acquainted.

“I’m very sorry about this, Mary,” John said. “I know my mother can be very … overpowering.”

She laughed. “Just a little.” She paused for a moment, looking at him closely. “You’re not really interested in this either, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” he confessed. “But Mother would not approve of my relationship. She’d only try to hurt us.”

She smiled sympathetically. “My parents don’t understand my feelings either. I’m not interested in a relationship, much less in marriage. They keep telling me I’ll change my mind when I meet the right person.”

“Parents, eh?” John said with a laugh.

She laughed too. “ Quite . This might work out better than I thought.”

He smiled. “I think so too. This could be the start of a great friendship.”

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Sherlock was relieved when John told him how the meeting with Mary had gone. If he  _ had _ to lose his love, he would far rather it be to someone interesting who John could  actually get along with. Wedding plans moved on quickly, and Sherlock tried to hold on tight to all the time they had remaining, attempting to ignore the  ever-growing ache in his chest.

John’s mother was determined to have the wedding happen quickly, so that there was less chance of anything going wrong. A date was set, and the weeks went by at a dizzying pace. Before long, the week of the wedding arrived. John was hardly at home, all the preparations keeping him busy every day. Of course, everything had to happen under his mother’s eye.

The night before the wedding, John was finally able to enjoy an evening at home. He and Sherlock ordered a takeaway and cuddled on the sofa. They chatted about everything unimportant, sharing soft kisses every so often.

The evening was wearing on when John brought up a hand to stroke Sherlock’s cheek. “I never want to let you go. I wish I didn’t have to,” he murmured.

“ So do I,” Sherlock murmured back. “While you’re still mine, will you take me to bed, John?”

John laughed and drew Sherlock into a longer, more passionate kiss. Between kisses and giggles, they made their way to the bedroom. Fingers fumbled with buttons and zips, eager to reach the warm expanses of skin beneath. Scars, freckles and muscles were mapped with caresses and kisses. They made love slowly and tenderly, wanting to memorise  every last sensation.

They held each other afterwards, sharing soft kisses as they enjoyed their afterglow. John skimmed a hand over Sherlock’s ribs, eliciting bubbles of bright laughter. Sherlock’s eyes sparkled. John thought he was breath-taking.

“I love you, Sherlock,” John murmured,” stroking his hand along the line of Sherlock’s hip to rest on his bottom.

“I love you too, John,” Sherlock murmured back. He pressed a gentle kiss to his darling’s collar bone, eliciting a soft sigh. “I love you so much.”

Happy and sated, they soon fell asleep.

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Sherlock woke early to the feeling of John sliding out of his arms. Harsh reality came crashing down on him as he listened to John dressing, getting ready to leave. Tears prickled at his eyes, but he refused to give in to them. Not yet.

The sound of John’s movements came back closer to the bed, and Sherlock felt his darling sit down on the edge. He carefully schooled his expression to feign sleep, not wanting to have to speak, knowing that would cause his emotions to flood out.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” John whispered. “I want to marry  _ you _ , to hold you forever. I love -” His voice broke. “I love you.” He pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s cheek.

Sherlock screwed up his eyes tightly against the burning tears, fiercely hoping that John wouldn’t see. When he heard the door close behind John, he let his tears fall. They streamed, hot and painful, down his cheeks. Sobs choked him, making breathing difficult. He did not know what to do. As he gulped for air, trying to regain some semblance of control, he knew that he had to do  _ something _ . He could not,  _ would _ not, lose his beloved in this way.


	2. Chapter 2

John felt numb all the way through the preparations and the journey to the church. He had heard Sherlock sobbing in the bedroom as he left, and it had broken his heart. It had been awful to leave. All he had wanted was to return to bed, to hold his darling in his arms and ignore the rest of the world.

Standing in front of the priest with Mary, he felt lost. He looked at his mother on the front row. She looked thrilled that the event was happening, but he could tell her mood would turn in an instant if anything untoward happened. It pained him to know that she was probably aware of how much this was hurting him.

Every time he looked at Sherlock, his heart broke a little bit more. Sherlock had schooled his expression as carefully as ever, but John could see the pain lurking beneath.

As the priest continued to talk, John’s mind raced, weighing up his options. He could go ahead with his mother’s plans, get married, and live comfortably, if somewhat boringly. Or he could stop the wedding, leave with the love of his life, and face whatever his mother decided to do. Realistically, he could afford to live without additional financial support, and surely her influence could not be as strong as she imagined.

He knew in his heart that his Sherlock was worth any risk.

“Mary,” he whispered, “I’m afraid I’m about to make a scene.”

She grinned. “Do it,” she whispered back.

He waited for an opportune pause in what the priest was saying, then he raised his voice. “I’m sorry, everyone, but we can’t go on with this.”

There was dead silence for a few moments.

“What are you talking about, Johnathan?” his mother asked, her voice icy and her eyes murderous.

“Neither Mary nor I want this,” he said. “I won’t let you walk all over me anymore, and I won’t let you force me to leave the man I love.”

In the time it took for this to sink in, Sherlock was at John’s side and had taken his hand. They shared a soft smile.

“Are you sure, John?” Sherlock asked, hope shining in his previously sorrowful eyes.

“I’ve never been  more sure ,” John replied, raising his free hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. “Hang the consequences. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sherlock murmured, his eyes filling with tears.

John wiped away a stray teardrop with the pad of his thumb. His mother broke into the peaceful bubble that had formed around them.

“You can’t be serious, Johnathan,” she said.

He turned to face her. “I  _ am  _ serious. I don’t care what you do.”

“Will this make you happy, John?” his father asked.

“Yes,” John answered simply.

“Then that is all that matters,” his father said.

“I won’t have any part in this,” his mother said. She knew when she was beaten. With a last glare at John and Sherlock, she turned and walked away.

John turned to Sherlock with a smile. “Shall we go home, my love?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mary embracing her parents, having talked it out. He was pleased for her.

“It seems a shame to waste the wedding,” Sherlock said, a gleam coming into his eye. “Will you marry me, John?”

Now it was John’s turn to cry as he drew Sherlock into a breath-taking kiss, pouring in all his joy and passion. “Yes,” he breathed when they pulled away. “God yes.”

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The ceremony was simple and beautiful. It amused John no end that they were using something his mother had organised in a way that she disapproved of so much. Exchanging rings with Sherlock felt right, like they were made to be joined together.

The reception afterwards was in a hotel around the corner. The decorations were wrong, of course, but nobody cared. Other than John’s father, and Mary, the first person to offer their congratulations was Mike Stamford.

“I never imagined when I introduced you two in the hospital laboratories that you would end up here,” he said, beaming and shaking them both by the hand. “I hope you’ll  remain very happy. Congratulations.”

After many such conversations, they at last sat down to lunch. John’s mother had ordered everything that was best, and they toasted her in her absence. John and Sherlock giggled between themselves, their hands clasped beneath the table. Sherlock raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to John’s knuckles.

“And a toast to you, my darling, for standing up to her,” he murmured.

John smiled. “And to you, my love, for being so romantic.”

They both leaned in to share a soft kiss.

After the meal came the dancing. Although, as a rule, Sherlock did not like folk music, he danced with John to some Scottish tunes, purely for the pleasure of seeing the joy in his husband’s eyes. With their hands clasped and their feet moving in an approximation of a jig, they both laughed joyfully.

They spent a  long time dancing together, with their arms wrapped around each other. Sherlock breathed in John’s warm scent, feeling that the world had been restored to him.

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That evening, they cuddled together on the sofa. Unlike the previous night, there was no urgency of despair. They shared peanut butter on toast from the same plate, sipping cups of tea, and followed it up with honey cake. Afterwards, Sherlock lay with his head resting in John’s lap. John stroked his hair with one  hand and clasped one of his hands with the other.

“I was going to stop the wedding, you know,” Sherlock said.

“Were you going to be clichéd, darling?” John asked with a laugh.

Sherlock giggled. “Well, it would have been terribly romantic.”

“I think it was romantic enough as it was,” John murmured. Releasing Sherlock’s hand, he caressed his husband’s cheek, his thumb tracing over the cheekbone and his fingers tickling behind the ear.

Sherlock hummed with pleasure, his eyes drifting closed. “This is lovely,” he sighed.

Sitting up, he shuffled back to sit on John’s lap. Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed and kissed and kissed. When they pulled away, both were breathless and smiling. Sherlock nuzzled his nose against John’s, gently kissing the corner of his husband’s mouth.

“Let’s go to bed, darling,” John murmured.

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Quite some time later, they lay tangled together, blissfully sated. John’s heart fluttered to think that they now had this forever. This brilliant, beautiful man was his husband. Sighing happily, he gathered Sherlock closer.

“God, you’re lovely,” John breathed.

“So are you,” Sherlock murmured, stroking his fingertips lightly down John’s arm. “My treasure.”

Curled around each other, they soon fell asleep.


End file.
